Love for Love
Congreve, William
Love for Love
William Congreve
Love for Love
A Comedy
Nudus agris, nudus nummis paternis,
Insanire parat certa ratione modoque.
Hor.
To the Right Honourable Charles
Earl of Dorset and Middlesex, Lord Chamberlain of His Majesty's Houshold, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, etc.
My Lord,
A young Poet, is liable to the same Vanity and Indiscretion with a Young Lover; and the Great Man that smiles upon one, and the Fine Woman that looks kindly upon t'other, are each of 'em in Danger of having the Favour publish'd with the first Opportunity.
But there may be a different Motive, which will a little distinguish the Offenders. For tho' one should have a Vanity in ruining another's Reputation, yet the other may only have an Ambition to advance his own. And I beg leave, my Lord, that I may plead the latter, both as the Cause and Excuse of this Dedication.
Whoever is King, is also the Father of his Country; and as no body can dispute Your Lordship's Monarchy in Poetry; so all that are concern'd, ought to acknowledge Your Universal Patronage: And it is only presuming on the Priviledge of a Loyal Subject, that I have ventur'd to make this my Address of Thanks, to Your Lordship; which at the same time, includes a Prayer for Your Protection.
I am not Ignorant of the Common Form of Poetical Dedications, which are generally made up of Panegyricks, where the Authors endeavour to distinguish their Patrons, by the shining Characters they give them, above other Men. But that, my Lord, is not my business at this time, nor is Your Lordship now to be distinguish'd. I am contented with the Honour I do my self in this Epistle; without the Vanity of attempting to add to, or explain Your Lordship's Character.
I confess it is not without some strugling, that I behave my self in this Case, as I ought: For it is very hard to be pleased with a Subject, and yet forbear it. But I chuse rather to follow Pliny's Precept, than his Example, when in his Panegyrick to the Emperour Trajan, he says,
Nec minus considerabo quid aures ejus pati possint, Quam quid virtutibus debeatur.
I hope I may be excus'd the Pedantry of a Quotation, when it is so justly apply'd. Here are some Lines in the Print, (and which your Lordship read before this Play was Acted) that were omitted on the Stage; and particularly one whole Scene in the Third Act, which not only helps the Design forward with less Precipitation, but also heightens the ridiculous Character of Foresight, which indeed seems to be maim'd without it. But I found my self in great danger of a long Play, and was glad to help it where I could. Tho' notwithstanding my Care, and the kind Reception it had from the Town; I could heartily wish it yet shorter: But the Number of Different Characters represented in it, would have been too much crowded in less room.
This Reflection on Prolixity, (a Fault, for which scarce any one Beauty will attone) warns me not to be tedious now, and detain Your Lordship any longer with the Trifles of,
MY LORD,
Your Lordship's
Most Obedient
and Most Humble
Servant,
WILL. CONGREVE.
A Prologue for the Opening of the New Play-House, Propos'd to be Spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle in Man's Cloaths.
Sent from an unknown Hand.
Custom, which everywhere bears mighty Sway,
Brings me to act the Orator to Day:
But Women, you will say, are ill at Speeches,
'Tis true, and therefore I appear in Breeches:
Not for Example to you City-Wives;
That by Prescription's setled for your Lives.
Was it for gain the Husband first consented?
O yes, their Gains are mightily augmented:
Making Horns with her Hands over her Head.
And yet, methinks, it must have cost some Strife:
A Passive Husband, and an Active Wife!
'Tis awkward, very awkward, by my Life.
But to my Speech, Assemblies of all Nations
Still are suppos'd to open with Orations:
Mine shall begin, to shew our Obligations.
To you, our Benefactors, lowly Bowing,
Whose Favours have prevented our undoing;
A long Egyptian Bondage we endur'd,
Till Freedom, by your Justice we procur'd:
Our Taskmasters were grown such very Jews,
We must at length have Play'd in Wooden Shooes,
Had not your Bounty taught us to refuse.
Freedom's of English growth, I think, alone;
What for lost English Freedom can attone?
A Free-born Player loaths to be compell'd;
Our Rulers Tyraniz'd, and We Rebell'd.
Freedom! the Wise Man's Wish, the Poor Man's Wealth;
Which you, and I, and most of us enjoy by Stealth;
The Soul of Pleasure, and the Sweet of Life,
The Woman's Charter, Widdow, Maid or Wife,
This they'd have cancell'd, and thence grew the Strife.
But you perhaps, wou'd have me here confess
How we obtain'd the Favour; – Can't you guess?
Why then I'll tell you, (for I hate a Lye)
By Brib'ry, errant Brib'ry, let me dye:
I was their Agent, but by Jove I swear
No honourable Member had a share
Tho' young and able Members bid me Fair:
I chose a wiser way to make you willing,
Which has not cost the House a single Shilling;
Now you suspect at least I went a Billing.
You see I'm Young, and to that Air of Youth,
Some will add Beauty, and a little Truth;
These Pow'rful Charms, improv'd by Pow'rful Arts,
Prevail'd to captivate your op'ning Hearts.
Thus furnish'd, I prefer'd my poor Petition,
And brib'd ye to commiserate our Condition:
I Laugh'd, and Sigh'd, and Sung, and Leer'd upon ye;
With Roguish Loving Looks, and that way won ye:
The Young Men kiss'd me, and the Old I kiss'd,
And luringly, I led them as I list.
The Ladies in meer Pity took our Parts,
Pity's the darling Passion of their Hearts.
Thus Bribing, or thus Brib'd, fear no Disgraces;
For thus you may take Bribes, and keep your Places.
Prologue.
Spoken at the opening of the New House, by Mr. Betterton.
The Husbandman in vain renews his Toil,
To cultivate each Year a hungry Soil;
And fondly hopes for rich and generous Fruit,
When what should feed the Tree, devours the Root:
Th'unladen Boughs, he sees, bode certain Dearth,
Unless transplanted to more kindly Earth.
So, the poor Husbands of the Stage, who found
Their Labours lost upon the ungrateful Ground,
This last and only Remedy have prov'd;
And hope new Fruit from ancient Stocks remov'd.
Well may they hope, when you so kindly aid,
And plant a Soil which you so rich have made.
As Nature gave the World to Man's first Age,
So from your Bounty, we receive this Stage;
The Freedom Man was born to, you've restor'd,
And to our World, such Plenty you afford,
It seems like Eden, fruitful of its own accord.
But since in Paradise frail Flesh gave way,
And when but two were made, both went astray;
Forbear your Wonder, and the Fault forgive,
If in our larger Family we grieve
One falling Adam, and one tempted Eve.
We who remain, would gratefully repay
What our Endeavours can, and bring this day,
The First-fruit Offering, of a Virgin Play.
We hope there's something that may please each Taste,
And tho' of Homely Fare we make the Feast,
Yet you will find variety at least.
There's Humour, which for chearful Friends we got,
And for the thinking Party there's a Plot.
We've something too, to gratifie ill Nature,
(If there be any here) and that is Satire.
Tho Satire scarce dares grin, 'tis grown so mild;
Or only shews its Teeth, as if it smil'd.
As Asses Thistles, Poets mumble Wit,
And dare not bite, for fear of being bit.
They hold their Pens, as Swords are held by Fools,
And are afraid to use their own Edge-Tools.
Since the Plain-Dealers Scenes of Manly Rage,
Not one has dar'd to lash this Crying Age.
This time, the Poet owns the bold Essay,
Yet hopes there's no ill-manners in his Play:
And he declares by me, he has design'd
Affront to none, but frankly speaks his mind.
And shou'd th' ensuing Scenes not chance to hit,
He offers but this one Excuse, 'twas writ
Before your late Encouragement of Wit.
Dramatis Personæ
Men.
Sir Sampson Legend, Father to Valentine and Ben
Valentine, Fallen under his Father's Displeasure by his expensive way of living, in love with Angelica
Scandal, His Friend, a Free Speaker
Tattle, A half-witted Beau, vain of his Amours, yet valuing himself for Secresie
Ben, Sir Sampson's Younger Son, half home-bred, and half-Sea-bred, design'd to marry Miss Prue
Foresight, An illiterate Old Fellow, peevish and positive, superstitious, and pretending to understand Astrology, Palmistry, Phisiognomy, Omens, Dreams, etc. Uncle to Angelica
Jeremy, Servant to Valentine
Trapland, A Scrivener
Buckram, A Lawyer
Women.
Angelica, Niece to Foresight, of a considerable Fortune in her own Hands
Mrs. Foresight, Second Wife to Foresight
Mrs. Frail, Sister to Mrs. Foresight, a Woman of the Town
Miss Prue, Daughter to Foresight by a former Wife, a silly, awkard, Country Girl
Nurse, to Miss Prue
Jenny, Maid to Angelica
A Steward, Officers, Sailers, and several Servants.
The Scene in London.
Act I.
Scene I.
Valentine in his Chamber Reading. Jeremy waiting.
Several Books upon the Table.
VALENTINE. Jeremy.
JEREMY. Sir.
VALENTINE. Here, take away; I'll walk a turn, and digest what I have read –
JEREMY. You'll grow Devilish fat upon this Paper- Diet.
Aside and taking away the Books.
VALENTINE. And d'ye hear, go you to Breakfast – There's a Page doubled down in Epictetus, that is a Feast for an Emperour.
JEREMY. Was Epictetus a real Cook, or did he only write Receipts?
VALENTINE. Read, read, Sirrah, and refine your Appetite; learn to live upon Instruction; feast your Mind, and mortifie your Flesh; Read, and take your Nourishment in at your Eyes; shut up your Mouth, and chew the Cud of Understanding. So Epictetus advises.
JEREMY. O Lord! I have heard much of him, when I waited upon a Gentleman at Cambridge: Pray what was that Epictetus?
VALENTINE. A very rich Man. – Not worth a Groat.
JEREMY. Humph, and so he has made a very fine Feast, where there is nothing to be eaten.
VALENTINE. Yes.
JEREMY.
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